Accidental necromancer, p.12
Accidental Necromancer, page 12
Nash twisted around and caught sight of the bar’s main attraction, the werebear sleeping on a balcony above the bar. It wiggled around, and the light played off its black fur. I couldn’t tell from here, but based on the size, I was willing to bet one of the ladies in the family was on duty.
“Ten years I’ve lived in Nashville, and no one ever recommended this place.” He leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “I hear about wine and piano bars. I think I’ve been to every one around town. Stuffy, pretentious places.”
“This is more your style?” I let him hear the surprise in my voice. Elves did have a reputation, and Walking Rug didn’t really fit it.
“A guy can relax here, laugh, have fun.” His glee faded. “But I can’t keep calling you Pine. We aren’t at work.”
“Kelsey.” I hesitated and then stuck my hand across the table. “Nice to meet you…”
“Nashua, no last name in elf tradition, but most people call me Nash.” He shook my hand.
“Well, Nash, I’m glad you like the place.” The waiter arrived with our food and saved me from thinking of what else to say.
Nash all but inhaled two chips dripping with cheese, leaned back in his chair, and studied me. “Nervous, Kelsey?”
“How’s a girl supposed to answer that without sounding like an idiot?” Not the best answer, but it saved me from saying what I was thinking.
He narrowed his eyes.
I ate a french fry.
“I’m single. I’ve had all my shots, and I’m not looking for a girlfriend tonight.” He popped another nacho in his mouth. “I was really hoping to have a good time and get to know someone I think I’ll see a lot at work.”
It was my turn to narrow my eyes. Was I really that transparent? Not a question I was willing to ask. “I didn’t say anything.”
He lost any sign of amusement. “You didn’t have to. I really would like to have a good uncomplicated time.”
“Well, now that we’re on the same page.” I lifted up my lemon drop. “To a good time.”
He clinked glasses with me. “I’ve been wondering, how did you end up at the TBI? Hardly a normal career path for a witch.”
The practiced reply I’d perfected through college and two years of training rolled off my tongue. “My clan does a lot of contract work, mostly spells set into building foundations and the like. I wanted to help people, and as a kid, I liked the idea of being a cop. A little older, and ever so slightly wiser, I realized that wasn’t the best way I could help. Going through the clans for every bit of magic puts a strain on law enforcement. I could do something about that, even if it only helped one state.”
I tugged the basket of fries closer. “What about you? Most elves love nature and growing things.”
Nash snorted. “Silly really. If they’re so in touch with the earth, why do they focus only on one part? Mother Earth’s cycle includes death, and it was the part never covered in my lessons, so I went to college and medical school. My family thinks I’m crazy, but they still love me.”
“Same.” I grinned at him.
After that, conversation rolled along. With the easy banter, I relaxed and had a good time. Two hours later, he walked me to my car, which I’d protested, not that it did much good.
“Night, Kelsey, and thank you.” He bowed his head.
Sometimes elves were just odd. “I’m here any time the mountain of papers gets to be too tall.”
The corners of Nash’s mouth turned up. He bowed his head again and walked away.
Elves, men, I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand them.
Back home, I spent a few minutes on the promised research. All I found was what I already knew. Something had drawn those charms to the house rather than to the individual bodies housing (or in the fey’s case, previously housing) their blood. Whatever created the connection was stronger than that tie.
That sounded fancy and helpful, but not much was stronger than a blood tie.
Too tired and frustrated to even attempt to puzzle out what had diverted my charms, I went to bed. As I closed my eyes, I prayed I’d get to sleep through the night.
Chapter Twelve
Narzel was laughing at me.
Or he hated me, and this was his method of revenge, one ruined night’s sleep at a time.
Shivering in Fabian because the heat hadn’t had time to get moving, I flipped on the turn signal. Early morning calls were becoming a habit, and if it kept up for much longer, I’d have to adjust my bedtime. Though, going to bed early enough to get my full eight hours would put me firmly in the old woman sleep pattern category. That would make dating tricky. Not many guys my age were keen on an eight o’clock curfew.
I parked along the same road as yesterday and retrieved my purification supplies before heading for the police line. After a few friendly words with the officer who’d been here yesterday too and seemed truly thrilled to be back, I headed over to Mitchell.
From ten feet away, she growled, “Just get on with it.”
No need to tell me twice. Not ten minutes later, I’d looked at the partly-eaten deer and purified everything. Just another day in the life.
“Same as before?”
“Yes.”
Mitchell swore. “Well, I don’t think you can do much more good here. Nash will pick up this body like the others, and maybe this time we’ll have enough evidence to do something useful.”
The three officers here with her wasn’t much compared to the crowd we’d attracted yesterday, and Mitchell looked like she was ready to start sleeping standing up. “Are you sure?”
“Go before I change my mind.”
I turned back to the cars, stashed my stuff, and debated what to do. Going home didn’t make much sense; my alarm would go off in an hour. Resigned to being at the office early again, I headed for the highway.
At least at five, the traffic wasn’t too bad, and I could get a prime parking spot. From there, it was me, a mostly empty building, and yet more paperwork. If anyone ever cursed me to be killed by the most tedious part of my job, I’d suffocate under a mountain of paper.
By the time everyone else was rolling into work, I’d finished the report and had moved onto reviewing all the notes on the cases. Maybe we’d missed something, or I’d find a way to track the werewolf. There had to be information that tied all of this together.
I clicked over to page two, and my phone rang. “Agent Pine.”
“It’s Nash. I have something you’ll want to see.” The humor and playfulness from last night had been replaced by the serious Nash I’d grown accustomed to.
“I’ll be there soon.” I picked up an extra-strong tea on my way over. It propped open my eyes, but it didn’t stop the fatigue that reminded me I’d lost a few of hours of sleep.
Like before, the receptionist sent me to Nash’s office alone. This time, the door was open, and I got a smile when I knocked. The pile of file boxes had been hidden under a green blanket. It must’ve been an improvement to him, because his eyes skated right over them without wincing.
“I have useful information.” He waved a stack of papers in the air.
“I’m ready.” I settled into the chair across from him.
He frowned at the stack of papers. “I need more room. This way.”
I followed him through a few hallways to a small break room, where one person hunched over a sandwich, eating it as if it might grow legs and run away. Nash motioned for me to sit and then took the seat next to me.
Elbows propped on the table, I watched him carefully set the pages in a tidy line. He pointed to the first one. “The purification ritual destroyed a lot of the evidence, I think because of the spells you were eradicating. I’ve examined bodies after purification before, and their systems were unaffected. So, off the dead wolf, I found elevated levels of adrenaline, even more than I would’ve expected from a fight.”
I nodded like I understood where this was going. The man at the other end of the table finished eating and hurried away. Our conversation probably hadn’t helped his appetite.
“In the man from Get Magic Goods, I found the same thing. The deer, their blood work came back with high adrenaline as well. I have a request in for more hormonal analysis of the deer, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.
“Now, the fey is where it gets interesting. I sent samples yesterday with a rush. They came back with elevated levels too. But if we go back to the scene at CJ’s Machine Shop, I isolated a werewolf blood sample, not the corpse but a different werewolf. That came back with tons of elevated hormones, almost everything I expected to see from someone who’d been in a fight, but at ten times those levels.” He poked a finger at the last piece of paper. “That has to be what the spell was doing.”
“It fits with the fragments I found, though if we ever end up having to testify, I can’t say for sure what the spell was.” My eyes settled on the last paper, like I could understand all the medial terms and results listed there. “Maybe... never mind.”
“What? Did I miss something?”
I ran the idea through my mind again. Maybe the tracking spells hadn’t malfunctioned, but what if it had tracked the wrong thing? “Blood is great for tracking because it has a strong connection to the person. But it also has a strong connection to itself. Since I didn’t do anything to focus the tracking spell, I think it latched onto the thing most like the sample I used to create the spell. Another blood sample from a similar time frame with a unique cocktail of hormones could produce a stronger connection than the person.”
Nash’s eyes lit up. “You need more blood samples, so you can exclude the hormonal and spell connection.”
“Some flesh might be better, but I can work with blood samples.” With a hunk of the werewolf, I could make a spell that would tie that piece to the whole and track him that way.
“Don’t have any flesh samples. But I have lots of blood.” Nash scooped up the papers. “And this time you’re going to watch me create the samples so there’s no doubt about the origin.”
I followed him back to the office. “Do we know which werewolf we’re looking for?”
“Not officially, but unofficially, I blood typed Thomas’s parents. The remains are his. Just waiting for the DNA to confirm. The other werewolf blood sample has a blood type that couldn’t have come from those two.” Nash dropped the papers on his desk. “To autopsy.”
That turned out to be a bit of an adventure. The lab classes I’d taken in college hadn’t required this much gear. But, here I was, decked out in a lab coat, two sets of gloves, and a weird sleeve protector, with goggles strapped to my head.
While I stood awkwardly, he scurried around, retrieving blood and setting things up on a bench top against the wall. That might’ve occupied my attention if two of the tables weren’t occupied.
The toe tag dangled off the man from Get Magic Goods, and the green skin of the other identified him as the fey. “I thought you’d finished with the Magic Goods autopsy.”
“Hmm?” He twisted around. “Oh, he’s a reference to see what similarities and differences I find in the fey. Never know what could solve a case.”
“That’s the damn truth,” I muttered.
“Narzel… I’ll be right back. Someone forgot to restock the test tubes.” He was out the door before I could say anything, leaving me alone with two bodies.
Necromancy flowed up from my leg until it filled my head, almost like it was looking through my eyes.
“Sweet bones of...” I should’ve read the grimoire last night.
The power flexed. I couldn’t tell if it had stayed in my skin or if the motes of dust in the air were really motes of necromancy.
The fey’s bloated head turned toward me. “Mistress.”
I couldn’t look away from the death-clouded eyes. Not here, not now. This couldn’t be happening.
Chapter Thirteen
“Blood to trigger, blood to power,” The apparently undead fey continued. “Never another spell cross.” His head turned until he was looking at the ceiling.
“Die, stay dead,” I hissed as I glanced over my shoulder. Nash could come back any moment. Turing back to the not-so-dead fey, I added another order. “Rest and walk no more.”
But his eyes were already closed, and the necromancy was crawling back to where it lived, having scared me enough for one day.
“I keep telling them to restock, but they don’t listen,” Nash grumbled as the door whooshed open and then closed again.
Blood pounded through me. The fey looked dead, but did a zombie really look that different from a corpse if it wasn’t moving?
“Pine?”
What if he wasn’t dead? What would I do then? Narzel. I had to study that book tonight.
Nash suddenly appeared between me and the zombie fey. Or was it dead again? This was so confusing.
“Do you need to sit down?” His brows pulled together, and he examined my face. “You look pale.”
“Um.” I blinked, trying to figure out what to say.
He cupped my elbow and turned me away. “I forget not everyone is as comfortable around the dead. If you can hold it together while I make these samples for you, we can leave.”
“Sure,” I said faintly, holding back a manic laughter with everything in me. If anything, I was too comfortable with the dead. You know, just a normal problem for a twenty-four year old witch.
I did my best to hold it together while Nash prepared the samples. My necromancy stayed quiet, and I escaped without him asking again if I was feeling okay. Given the not-as-dead-as-he-should’ve-been fey, that was as good as it got.
The drive back to work took all my attention, which helped stuff the fear back to where it belonged. After dropping the new blood samples in the fridge, I went out for a long lunch. By the time I returned, my nerves had settled enough for me to work some very normal, no-necromancy-needed spells.
I blocked out everything, well, everything related to necromancy, and immersed myself in a complex bit of casting. Using all the blood samples Nash had provided, I crafted a new tracking spell. This one had strict instructions not to look for blood with similar features, which was where the other samples came in, but for the source of it.
The end result didn’t look much different than the other ones, but the disk of wood had three times as many runes etched into its surface. When everything pulled together, the spell didn’t point toward the morgue or directly to the house, but to the west. Unless my next early morning call was for a dead deer on that side of town, I wasn’t sure I trusted this spell, even though it should have been correct.
That doubt was enough to shatter my focus. Werewolf, undead, and necromancy. There wasn’t enough space left to even think about the words the fey had passed along or why it had needed to say those words, never mind being alert enough to hunt a werewolf with blood magic.
Even if the spell was working properly, which I had some doubts about considering the direction it was pointing, I couldn’t go hunting today. I had to read the grimoire and figure out how to stop all this accidental necromancy.
Rather than calling, I sent Mitchell an email. After that, I spent a few hours tiding up work that required more time than thought before heading home. I picked up a burger on the way and ate it sitting at my dining room table, trying to work up the courage to do what had to be done. A grand way to spend Friday night, especially since I expected to work through the weekend.
After tidying up the kitchen and checking the front door locks twice, I couldn’t put it off any longer. The grimoire slid out of its box like it wanted to be in my hand.
Our last encounter hadn’t filled me with optimism, so I gave the book a good look and a light probe. If there were any active spells, they were beyond my ability to detect.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the book. A swirling script had replaced the runes.
* * *
Daughter of Nekro,
It seems you came to this book without proper introduction. I do hope you can understand the spell is intended to protect you and the rest of our blood. I apologize for the discomfort.
Do not be ashamed of your powers, and do not fear them. You come from fierce and strong women who wielded their power over the dead. The knowledge we would have shared was rejected, and we were hunted.
That is the history they want you to know. Of how we were evil creatures, too connected to the dead and not connected enough to the living. But it is not the full legacy. We brought peace to the living, spared their lives, and let the dead die again. Without us, the great battles of years past could have destroyed entire races. We were the instruments in preventing death.
Now that heritage has come to you. Choose your legacy. Turn away, and you can never return. Accept your heritage and revel in power unmatched by any other witch. Betray your blood and feel the wrath of your clan.
I do hope you continue, for in the powers of the Nekro, you will find marvels unlike any magics you have seen.
* * *
Kelsey Nekro
* * *
My fingers hovered over that name. A woman who had come before me, who had shared my power, and who had been crafty enough to lay a protection spell—or perhaps vengeance would be a better term—in the pages. A witch who had had an unparalleled control of her power.
My hand trembled as I turned the page, but all it showed was a table of contents. I skipped past The History of the Nekro to The Basics of Making a Necromancer. The Foundation of Raising the Dead would be my next stop.
I found the page and started reading. The answers were here somewhere. I just had to find them.
Three pages into The Basics of Making a Necromancer, I understood what my mother had done to me. Raising the dead required a connection to death, or more power than any three witches had naturally. That’s why she’d deadened the nerves in my leg.
The two wells of power didn’t seem to be common, but a single line noted it could result from a witch’s necromancy being bound. When the block against necromancy ended, it was normal for the two wells of powers to need integration. The book neglected to mention how to mix the two types of power.
